Matters of Perspective
by onlyonceinforever
Summary: Draco relects on the one thing he wants in life someone who will pay attention. :ONESHOT:


**Disclaimer: As much as I would love to, I don't own Draco or the rest of Harry Potter. I do, however, own a shiny new copy of Half Blood Prince and all I have to say is OMFG. **

**A/N: The only reason I wrote this was to explain why everything Draco does is a desperate cry for attention. The Pansy thing in the new book pissed me off, so I needed a reasonable explanation. Cuz I'm strange and twisted like that.**

**Right, and I apologize in advance for the slightly disorganized nature of it, as it was around 2am when I wrote this. **

**Matters of Perspective**

I don't care, you know.

It might seem like I do, but let me assure you, I most definitely do not.

It's all a sham.

Potter, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, all fake. None of them do I care about in the slightest bit. I only do what i do to get attention.

Everything I do, everything I say, it's only a desperate cry for attention. Sure, to the casual observer it would appear that I take jot in the pains of others - which to some extent is somewhat true - but really I only do it to get attention.

Mother and Father always _said_ they cared about me, but really, what do I have to show for it? My pride, that's what, and only my pride. Even that seems to be only an illusion as of late. I've sunk far, too far, disgracing the family name.

First thing I did was to associate myself with scum like that damned Potter. Some people seem to be under the thoroughly misguided impression that I actually _wanted_ to extend my hand to him that day on the train. Others - more correctly, but still not quite true - believe simply that I was attempting to acquire a powerful ally in the great bumbling Chosen One. But only I know the truth - I only do the things I do to make people _think_ I give a damn. Which I don't. Though I must admit, picking on everyone's favorite savior _does_ bring a rather satisfying amount of attention.

Then there's the matter of Crabbe and Goyle. Typically, the brutes are viewed as my bodyguards, simply beings who would protect me and execute my orders without fail. But I alone know better. Only _I_ know they are only beside me to make people _think_ the family legacy is as potent as it always has been. But I don't care. I really don't. I only do it for the attention.

_Then_, there's the idiotic matter of that pug-faced broad, Parkinson. I will admit that there have been a _few_ instances during which an observer could very easily be swayed to the incorrect impression that she means something to me. She doesn't. I'm only using her to get attention. Attention that my parents never gave me.

As far back as I can remember, the only times my parents - if they are fit for such a title - felt the need to pay me any heed was when Father attended a social gathering of the higher-ups and determined it would make _him_ look good to parade me around. Me, the only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. At times I know I was nothing more to them than a trophy, something that could be shown off. I didn't mind, though. When Mother and Father showed me off, I felt wanted, _needed._ Those were the only times when I felt that way.

To make then happy, to make _me_ happy, I always did everything I was told. I never disobeyed, always executed orders with a precision that made me nearly worthy of the Malfoy name. If I always did what I was told, then they would pat attention to me, maybe even _love_ me.

But as time progressed, they became less and less interested with me and more so with their personal affairs. I would still be paraded around, of course, the poster-boy for pureblooded superiority. But they no longer wanted me. I was simply a tool of theirs, something to be manipulated when the occasion arose.

As my parents drifted away from me, I began to eagerly await the day when I would first attend Hogwarts, where I could start fresh, find new people who needed me. Eventually, I found them.

Crabbe and Goyle were nothing but bulk without my brains to powers operations. The student population depended on me to deliver some new kind of insult to Potter upon every fleeting occurrence, whether they were aware of it or not. That pug Parkinson, well she wanted me to increase _her_ standing in the school, since I was a Malfoy - and a clever one at that - and she was nothing. Nothing without me.

So, finally I had found people who wanted me, _needed_ me the way my parents used to, but I will all be short lived. I refuse to put up with these simpering, pathetic fools for much longer.

Well, at least that's what I told myself before realizing that I was the worst simpering, pathetic fool of all.

But is it really so bad that I just want someone to notice me. to pay attention?


End file.
